Advertisement
Advertisement
During those formative years when the idea of sex with another man suddenly became a tangible reality, I also grew scared shitless of catching an STI. The fear of catching chlamydia, gonorrhoea, or HIV scared the fuck out of me. But I was completely clueless about it all—I'd had no education about the risks of gay sex, or, more importantly, how to do it and enjoy it safely. I knew what went where, and what I fantasized about, but without any kind of information from school (I wish so much that I'd learned some of the basics there), TV, friends, or, god forbid, my parents, I was in the dark and too scared to look into it, or ask, for fear of looking stupid. Only, I did make myself look stupid on occasion.Once, I developed an itchy rash and high-tailed it to a Soho sexual health clinic, convinced that I'd somehow picked up HIV—despite never having sex. The nurse must have thought I was nuts when she reassured me that sexually inactive people were very unlikely to contract any kind of STI. I left the clinic feeling ridiculous and shamefully ignorant.What does a young man do when he knows he's gay but is starved of any kind of visual reference points—or any conversation—for how he's feeling and what he's thinking about?
Advertisement